Chapter 1 - THE MAN WHO HATED BEING HELPED
“The newspapers called his survival miraculous.”
Norah Hayes had read that sentence in three different articles before arriving at Cornero Tower.
Standing inside Arthur Cornero's office, she wondered whether the reporters had ever met him.
“Are you going to stand there breathing all afternoon?”
His voice came from behind the enormous oak desk.
Low.
Rough.
And thoroughly irritated.
Norah glanced at Vincent Marchetti, who stood beside the door.
Vincent gave her a look that clearly meant be careful.
She ignored it.
“I was waiting for you to finish being dramatic.”
Silence.
Vincent closed his eyes.
Arthur's head turned slightly.
“Excuse me?”
Norah stepped forward.
“Norah Hayes. Your new assistant.”
“I didn't ask your name.”
“Then we're off to a terrible start, because I already told you.”
Arthur's expression hardened.
“Vincent.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Get her out.”
Norah looked at the desk.
There were three coffee cups.
Two empty.
One half-full.
A stack of unopened correspondence leaned dangerously close to the edge.
The room smelled like old coffee, expensive leather, and something unpleasantly familiar.
A man who had stopped caring whether he lived comfortably.
She folded her arms.
“Before I go, can I make one observation?”
Arthur's jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Your office smells like stale coffee, expensive leather, and a man who's decided darkness is a personality.”
Vincent made a strangled noise.
Arthur went completely still.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Arthur said, very softly, “What did you just say?”
Norah looked toward the covered windows.
“You heard me.”
“Do you have any idea who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Then you should know I can ruin your career before lunch.”
Norah checked the clock.
“It's eleven forty-nine. You'll have to hurry.”
Vincent turned toward the wall.
His shoulders shook.
Arthur heard it.
“Vincent.”
The laughter stopped.
“Get out.”
Vincent hesitated.
“Sir—”
“Not her. You.”
Vincent stared.
Then looked at Norah.
She gave him a small shrug.
He left.
The doors closed.
Arthur sat motionless.
Norah remained standing.
Finally, he spoke.
“You're either very stupid or very desperate.”
“Desperate,” she answered.
He tilted his head.
“At least you're honest.”
“Usually.”
“Why do you need this job?”
“Rent.”
“That's all?”
“Electricity. Groceries. The occasional luxury of dental care.”
Arthur leaned back.
“You think you're funny.”
“I think forty dollars an hour is a good reason to develop a sense of humor.”
He said nothing.
Norah glanced at the documents on his desk.
“Are we going to work?”
Arthur's expression changed.
“You're still here?”
“Apparently.”
He reached toward a folder.
“Read page three.”
Norah approached.
She did not move anything unnecessarily.
She opened the folder.
Page three contained a shipping agreement.
She began reading.
Arthur listened without interruption.
Halfway through, he stopped her.
“Again.”
Norah repeated the paragraph.
“Slower.”
She slowed down.
His expression tightened.
“Who drafted this?”
“The footer says Adrian Bell.”
Arthur's jaw clenched.
“Of course it does.”
Norah waited.
He extended his hand.
“Give me the document.”
She placed it where his fingers could find it.
He touched the paper.
Then smiled without humor.
“Welcome to Cornero Tower, Miss Hayes.”
Norah frowned.
“Thank you?”
May you like
Arthur's voice became cold.
“Let's see how long you last.”
